Page 79 of Anger

Patrick taps his wrist like he’s wearing a watch, his expression grim as I approach him.

“What else is new?” I joke but stop in place when he grabs me as I attempt to walk past him. Gesturing for me to get closer so he can whisper, Patrick waits until my ear is near his lips before issuing his warning.

“You need to be careful tonight, you hear me? Granger is in one hell of a mood.”

Brushing his warning off, I laugh.

“When is Granger not in a mood? No worries, I know how to deal with him.”

I wish that were true and my feigned confidence is real. Granger has been getting worse every night, and my stomach rolls at the thought of seeing him.

Patrick grabs my upper arm and squeezes it to keep my attention.

“I’m not playing with you tonight. There’s something different than his usual shit. He’s lashing out at everyone who crosses his path. Two girls have already left crying.”

A knot forms in my throat. “Did he fire them?”

Is it possible I’m not the only girl he’s trying to fuck?

“Don’t know. They were so upset; they ran past me without saying a word. That’s why I’m warning you. The man is on a rampage.”

What the hell can I do?

I have to work.

My rent is coming up due, and I barely have half the amount I owe them.

“I’ll be fine,” I promise, but even I don’t believe the words. “Maybe he’s already calmed down, and he won’t be a complete asshole when I walk in.”

Patrick lets me go and twists his lips. “I doubt it. Those girls ran out of here only ten minutes ago. I doubt the man has calmed down at all.”

“It’ll be okay.”

Patrick shakes his head, knowing it won’t beokay.

It hasn’t beenokayin the past couple weeks, and I feel like I’m walking into a lion’s den while wearing a pair of porkchop panties.

“Just take care,” he finally says, the concern on his face causing my stomach to drop into my feet.

Sighing heavily, I roll my shoulders back with every intention of walking in the club confidently, but fear chases through my veins, making my legs a little wobbly.

As soon as I walk through the door, I see Granger standing at the bar waiting for me. He doesn’t bother with our usual routine of letting me approach him and get my scolding for being late. Instead, he storms forward and grabs my arm to drag me through the first floor and up the stairs to the second.

Practically shoving me into the dressing room, he slams the door behind us then leans against it to block me from leaving.

“You little fucking bitch. Do you think I don’t know what game you’re playing?”

Damn it. This is not normal for him. Granger may be a handsy son of a bitch who thinks he has every right to my body, but he’s never looked at me like he’s already planned my murder and knows exactly where to bury my body.

I step away from him, but he marches forward until I hit a wall and can’t escape. His hand goes to my throat, his fingers squeezing so tight, I can barely catch my breath.

Keeping me pinned to the wall by my neck, he gets in my face, his expression a mask of pure, red rage.

“You’re done. I hope you know that.”

I’d ask him what the hell I’m done with if I could draw in a full breath of air.

Granger doesn’t appear to give much of a shit about getting an answer. His lips are held in a tight line, his eyes narrowed into a dark glare. Patrick wasn’t wrong to warn me. There is something seriously wrong with Granger tonight.

---